


the telltale animal

by blackkat



Series: Agen Kolar prompts [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Competence Kink, Flirting, Humor, M/M, jailbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Jango had been cooling his heels in solitary for two weeks when they finally toss another prisoner into the cell beside him.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Agen Kolar
Series: Agen Kolar prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941664
Comments: 37
Kudos: 809
Collections: Star Wars Alternate Universes





	the telltale animal

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Agen/Jango jailbreak buddies?

Jango had been cooling his heels in solitary for two weeks when they finally toss another prisoner into the cell beside him. 

The yelling makes it clear that _something_ is happening well before the guards appear, and Jango sits up on his cot, interested despite himself. It’s one of the more boring prisons he’s been in, and with Boba back on Kamino, he doesn’t even have a jailbreak to look forward to, so any kind of distraction is welcome. And, of course, it’s intensely amusing to watch four strong men try to contain the bound, gagged Zabrak they’re trying to lead to the cell. 

“Having some trouble?” Jango calls, just to distract them, and one guard twitches towards him like he’s about to turn. Gleefully, the Zabrak seizes on the distraction, tucking his head and slamming his tattooed horns into the Gamorrean who’s hanging onto his lead. With a howl, the guard goes down, and the Zabrak spins. Even with his feet shackled, he manages to leap sideways with startling grace, dodging a jab from an electrostaff, and then throws himself bodily into the Human swinging it. The man crashes into the bars of an empty cell, and the Zabrak jerks backwards, toppling the third guard. They hit the ground hard, and the prisoner rolls—

“Behind you!” Jango warns, and the Zabrak ducks, rolls out of the way of the second electrostaff, surges up—

On the ground, the first guard grabs the fallen staff, and jabs it up hard into the prisoner’s stomach. 

He goes down, silent, twitching, and Jango winces. 

Well. It wasn’t a bad attempt, at least. 

  
It’s probably due solely to Zabrak resilience that the prisoner stirs barely an hour later, after the beating the guards gave him. Jango watches him, lounging on his cot, because there’s nothing else to do and there’s absolutely no chance of privacy with the cells set up the way they are. It’s been a while since he had company, too; apparently with these guys you kill one prisoner and suddenly you’re a danger that needs solitary. 

“Awake?” Jango asks, only able to see a tangle of long black hair. There’s a cloth band around one lock, but the other is still lying in the center of the hallway, and beyond the tattooed horns Jango can’t see any marks of affiliation, nothing to show why the warden seems to want this guy in particular so thoroughly out of the way.

There’s a long pause, then a grunt, and the Zabrak rolls over. Lies on his back for a moment, then pushes up with a grimace, one hand going to his stomach. Knowing how many times the guards kicked him, Jango isn’t surprised it smarts. “Yes,” he says, and glances up, eyes narrowing as they settle on Jango. He doesn’t say anything else, though, and Jango is bored enough to tip two fingers against his brow in lazy salute. 

“You piss off the warden?” he asks. 

“I stabbed the warden,” the man corrects, and Jango snorts. 

“Yeah, that probably pissed him off.” Looking the man over, he raises a brow, and asks, “Going to kick it?”

The Zabrak snorts, then leans over to spit out a mouthful of blood. “Idiots cannot kill me,” he says, with a confidence Jango would call insanity, except he’s fought Zabraks before. There’s a particular sort of ballsiness that comes with being able to survive getting cut in half, though, so it’s probably at least partially deserved. 

“They can throw you in a jail cell, though,” he drawls. 

The Zabrak looks decidedly unimpressed by this reminder. “For now,” he says, and straightens slightly, grimacing as he crosses his legs beneath him. “Have you been here long?”

“Two weeks,” Jango says, displeased. “Guards haven’t gotten close enough for me to grab one of them yet, and…” He spreads his hands, indicating his almost entirely empty cell. They even took the blankets away, once he tried to strangle someone with them. 

The Zabrak snorts, mouth tipping up in amusement, and he turns to look down the hall. His eyes narrow, but whatever he can hear, it’s beyond Human senses. “They’re scared of you,” he says. 

Jango smiles thinly. “Good for my line of work,” he says, unbothered. “Jango Fett.”

The name gets him a look, but the Zabrak doesn’t otherwise react. “Agen Kolar,” he returns, and raises a hand to touch the bars between them. His frown is faint, but Jango’s more interested in the dotted tattoos that curl across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, then up his horns. Not traditional, so he probably wasn’t raised on Iridonia or Darthomir, but Zabraks aren’t exactly uncommon in Hutt space. 

It’s been a while since Jango saw one fight like that, though. It’s maybe a little impressive. 

“It’s your son outside,” Agen says abruptly, and Jango stills. Boba. But—Boba is all of eight. There’s no kriffing way he should be on a tiny Hutt planet, outside a _jail_ , and not safe back on Kamino with El-Les or one of the other Mandalorians. 

“ _What_ ,” he manages. 

Agen eyes him, the edge of amusement still lingering around his mouth. “He’s trying to hire someone to break you out,” he says. 

Well. That’s…better than trying to break Jango out himself. With an aggrieved sigh, Jango scrubs his hands over his face, then mutters a curse. “Please tell me he’s at least being discrete about it.” The warden’s a piece of work, and he won’t have any problem killing a kid if he thinks Boba’s going to make himself a problem.

“Hm.” Agen turns his head again, looking away, and—

The bars are wide enough that Jango can fit his hand through, and he does. Gets his fingers in that thick black hair, feels Agen still, but doesn’t pause. He pulls the clinging band free, the ribbon unraveling, and something metal drops. Jango catches it before it can hit the ground, and raises a brow. 

“Pretty,” he says, and could mean the hair or the clever little slicer chip that was so carefully hidden. 

Agen glances back, and the curl of his smirk is a sharp thing, all edges. “You like long hair?” he asks, and Jango feels a flicker of amusement rise, tangled up with anticipation. 

“Sure,” he says. “Fun to pull on, isn’t it?” Pauses, deliberate, and then asks, “You said Boba was trying to hire someone? Think he managed it?”

“He found someone who wouldn’t take his money,” Agen says, and Jango uses his grip on his hair to tug him around. Watches one dark hand curl around the bars, then lets his gaze slide up to meet Agen’s eyes. 

“Yeah?” he challenges. “So what’s in it for you, then?” 

“A good deed,” Agen says. “And I get to give the warden more of a headache.”

Jango snorts, leaning in, and curls his hand over Agen’s, slipping the chip back between his fingers. “Yeah? And how exactly are you going to do that from inside a jail cell?” 

“Your son is an admirable fighter,” Agen says, and—

Distant, muffled, something explodes. 

Jango stares at Agen, then laughs, unable to help it. “You’re kriffing _insane_ ,” he says. “He’s _eight_.”

“I gave him thermal detonators,” Agen says, unconcerned, like that’s any sort of rational response. “He’s at a safe distance.”

Still better than Boba trying to break in alone. “Distraction?” Jango asks. 

“Yes.” Smooth, graceful, like all the bruises Jango _knows_ he’s sporting don’t matter, Agen rises to his feet, slick-smooth black hair slipping from between Jango’s fingers. “Your armor is being held in storage. We’ll stop there first.”

“I like your priorities,” Jango says, and follows him up. “How—”

Stops. Stops dead, because in the hallway the dropped ribbon is levitating. It twists through the air to Agen’s hand, and he pulls another chip from the cloth, then fits them together. As soon as he clips the device to the edge of the cell, the lock beeps and disengages.

Jango’s still stuck on the floating, though.

“You’re a _Jedi_?” he demands, and—they were flirting. That was definitely the Jedi bastard flirting with him just a few seconds ago. Jango didn’t think Jedi _did_ that. Didn’t think they’d go out of their way to get dragged into a jail, then beaten up, just so they could help a little kid free his dad, either. 

Agen just grunts. “I’m not supposed to operate in Hutt space,” he says. “Or breaking you out would have been easy.”

Easy. Jango breathes out, tells himself it’s not attractive because Agen is a _fracking Jedi_ , and says, “I’m going to kill you as soon as you get me out of here.”

Agen looks entirely, infuriatingly unbothered. “If you wish to try, I will welcome the fight,” he says, and—

It’s not hot. It shouldn’t be. He’s a Jedi, and Jango is going to take his head as a trophy. 

Still, the moment Agen unlocks his cell, Jango grabs him. Reels him in, jerks the tall bastard down, and kisses him hard, twisting his fingers into his hair again. Pulls, hears Agen’s breath catch, and says as he drags his mouth away, “You’d better hope you’re half as good as you think you are, Jedi, or you’re not walking away from this one.”

Agen smiles, quick and dark and enough to make Jango’s blood heat. “Half as good? No. I’m better,” he says, and Jango’s only two choices are to kiss him or punch him. 

He takes the easier option. 


End file.
